


File Your Report at the Door (Or How Coulson and Barton Broke the Holidays)

by KibblerEars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Also featuring the wrong way to hang up holiday wreaths, Breathplay, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Clint sings christmas songs while scantily clad, Decorations being used for everything except decoration, Fluff, Inappropriate use of holiday decorations, M/M, Romance, Tony Stark Fucking Machines (TM), You've been warned, also clint likes to risk electrocution just for puns, also some innovative StarkTech, garland is itchy and phil understands my pain, seriously kids don't try this one at home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KibblerEars/pseuds/KibblerEars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's the traditional way to decorate and prepare for the holiday season.</p><p>And then there are the Barton-Coulson Methods (TM). </p><p>(You probably shouldn't try any of them at home.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paddling Isn't Just For Canoes Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this fic was: 101 Inappropriate Uses of Holiday Decorations. 
> 
> I took a bit of liberty and there isn't quite 101 ways (definitely not 101 ways), so I'm really sorry about that, but hopefully you'll enjoy the ways that _do_ exist. ;) 
> 
> These are all loosely connected in the sense that it's basically the same relationship for them - they've been together for at least two/three years by this point and are living in Stark Tower. It doesn't take into account Agents of SHIELD current canon.
> 
> Also, this is largely unbeta'd (I read it over and edited it personally but I'm only human and could have missed something), so if there's any errors or mistakes, I truly apologize (and would appreciate if you'd let me know)! 
> 
> Beyond that, enjoy and happy holidays!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Christmas Tree Sweater Craft

He got the idea from a random webpage he found open on his and Clint's shared StarkPad. That Phil found it in the first place was a stroke of luck given that Clint liked to have a never-ending chain of open tabs full of useless things he would never use or read again. Any time Phil tried to close some of them, or even just reset the web browser completely - because, let's be honest, after the fifty-first tab, it was probably the easiest way to deal with the _problem_ \- Clint would pop up out of some unknown location, as if he had a homing beacon that told him exactly when Phil was attempting this, and launch into a lengthy, melodramatic explanation about why he needed all of those tabs open, forever and ever and ever and ever and, well, Phil stopped listening after the first ever. 

Still, when he saw the little arts and crafts project that would ultimately result in a "homemade Christmas decoration," well, it was like a metaphorical light bulb going off over his head. Because what would start as a simple Christmas decoration would end as a perfect _present_ for Clint as well. 

They were called Christmas Tree Sweaters, made using old Christmas sweaters, glue (well, it had to be held together somehow), and popsicle sticks. But if Phil could adapt them - and he definitely could - then they could be used for something far better than simple decoration. A sly grin crossed his face even though he was the only one who could see it as he began to sketch out a loose plan, going over what materials he would need, and how he could make this without Clint catching on. 

First off, he'd need that old wooden paddle that was currently wasting away in their toy trunk since they hadn't used it in longer than Phil cared to admit. It would make a good base, he mused as he remembered the heavy-light feeling of it in his hand whenever he had used it on Clint. The paddle wouldn't be quite the right shape, but, Phil still had a few tools and he could easily carve it down into what it needed to be. 

Next, he'd need to steal one of Clint's plethora of ugly Christmas sweaters. The first one that popped into his mind, a truly hideous purple, green, and red monstrosity that Clint had gotten last year, saying it was "perfect for Hawkeye," was the one he wanted, and he knew Clint wouldn't even miss it given the one he had managed to find this year, with it's little white puff balls, and it's reindeer dog pattern. 

After that, it would be a simple matter of putting the things together and, Phil couldn't stop himself from grinning, because this was bound to be a present Clint would never forget. 

\--

"Wait, how did you know I was gonna make those to hang up this year," Clint asked, three days later, stopped in the living room doorway, still covered in sweat and grime from Bolivia. His tired eyes were fixed on the three Christmas Tree Sweaters Phil had pinned to the wall beside the television - two decoys, and one very special one, "I only found the site the day before the mission." 

"And you left it up so I found it and added my own twist," his lips curved into a dark smirk when Clint swung a suddenly wide-awake gaze his way. Phil climbed to his feet, rolling up the sleeves of his dark navy sweater before lifting the middle, arguably large, tree off the wall display, hefting it between his hands. "Merry Early Christmas, Clint," he winked at his partner, "I'll give you to the count of three to get into the bedroom, naked and ready for your present." 

Clint's eyes twinkled with returned mirth and he crossed the room in two quick steps to steal a deep kiss from Phil before he was darting off down the hall to the bedroom, the sound of Phil's amused laughter ringing after him.


	2. The Light of Clint's Life (Or How to Risk Electrocuting Your Partner Just to Say I Love You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Christmas Lights

Phil woke up to lights twinkling everywhere. 

Literally _everywhere_. 

Red. Blue. Green. White. Yellow. Even pink and purple light halos assaulted his eyes every which way he looked. And, wait, was that a set of _lava lamps_ lighting up his dresser? And a disco ball on his ceiling? What the hell was even going on here? As it was, Phil was relatively positive this would be permanently seared into his retinas, and he could only _pray_ there was a logical reason as to _why_. 

Curling his legs up in anticipation of climbing out of bed and attempting to both navigate his way through the light storm that was currently inhabiting his room and attempt to determine the extent of the light damage, Phil froze. Or, rather, he didn't move in the first place because apparently, without him realizing - probably due to the overwhelming distraction that was the damn lights - he was completely immobilized, he glanced down before flopping his head back onto his pillow with a groan, by more fucking lights. 

When closing his eyes again didn't even provide any relief, Phil let out a growl and stared up at the light-infested ceiling - he was so going to live permanently in the dark after this, "JARVIS, where is he," he bit out, struggling under the wires holding him in place. He really needed to itch his nipple - one of the tiny light bulbs was pressing at a really odd angle there and it felt just a bit too hot to be comfortable. 

"Right here," came Clint's voice from the general direction of the door. Phil didn't bother trying to squint through the light to see him. Not that it mattered because Clint's face appeared over top of him a moment later, an angelic - or demonic, depending on your view - halo of light surrounding his head. The grin Clint gave him was the same one that always sent his heart aflutter like a heroine in a cheesy dime-store romance novel, but he really wasn't in the mood for romance when there were burning light bulbs wrapped around his _dick_. 

"Care to explain, Barton." It wasn't a question and he could tell from Clint's widening grin that Clint was more amused than worried by Phil's grumpiness. 

Clint held up a bright red Christmas mug which, surprise surprise, had it's own set of lights on it, toasting Phil and purring, "why, you're the light of my life, Phil, don't ya know?"

Phil fought back an exasperated groan and sunk back into his pillow, refusing to look at Clint for the longest time before he finally muttered, "I love you, too. Now untie me already."


	3. And We'll Melt Chocolate With Our Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Advent Calendar

"Clint?" Phil paused in the front door, head tilted to the left as he eyed the rather large...calendar? At least, it looked like a calendar, but it only had twenty-five days marked out. Somehow, that niggled him as vaguely familiar but, of all the things he had to remember, incorrectly dated calendars were hardly one of them. Either way, he had no idea what it was doing hanging on his entryway wall. 

After a long moment in which silence was his only answer - never a good thing where Clint was involved - Phil shucked off his shoes and tried again, "Clint?" 

The archer in question suddenly popped out of seemingly nowhere - although Phil would put his money on the vent panel Stark had purposely put in their kitchen and that Phil was forever cursing him for - grinning a grin Phil knew meant trouble. 

"Don't even ask, _sir_ , just go with it," Clint purred, pausing at the calendar thing that, the more Phil looked at, the more he realized it was...decorated, almost garishly with bright green and even brighter red spots, and glittery gold stars and white circles all over the lopsided Christmas tree-shaped calendar thing. On top of that, Phil realized that each of the bright purple (really, Clint, _really_?) numbers were painted on the front of tiny little compartment doors that Phil was willing to bet opened. 

Phil watched with furrowed brows as Clint opened the tiny little green door marked "1" and finally just asked what he was thinking, "did you make this, Clint?" All signs pointed to yes - which wasn't a bad thing. Quite the opposite in fact. Phil was certain it was good Clint was expressing himself in arts and crafts in his downtime this Christmas season. But then, he'd do anything to make sure they didn't have another Paintball Incident like the one from Christmas '09. 

"Didn't I say no questions?" Clint shot Phil a cheeky grin that apparently was designed to draw an automatic return grin from Phil. The archer finally opened the first compartment, flicking the little door open to reveal a gold-wrapped chocolate nestled inside. 

Eyes widening just a touch, Phil watched with sudden avid interest as Clint sucked the unwrapped treat into his mouth, eyes never once leaving Phil's face. His lush lips closed around his index finger and thumb, hollowing his cheeks out to suck on them obscenely to clean them of chocolate, and to draw a quiet, barely audible whimper of want from Phil. He saw a brief flash of triumph in Clint's gaze before Clint's mouth was on his in a deep kiss, spreading the taste of minty chocolate between them. 

Phil didn't bother holding back his groan as he wrapped his arms around his partner and attempted to devour Clint's mouth. His hand cupped the back of Clint's head to keep him in place, tongue curling around Clint's to suck the chocolate completely out of his mouth. They stood in the doorway, mouths idly battling for dominance until the taste of chocolate was completely gone, and their lungs were burning for air. 

Pulling away with a gasp of desperate air, Clint's swollen mouth curved into another smirk, "Happy December First, Phil," Clint hummed against Phil's mouth, still breathing harsh and deep. 

Phil nipped at Clint's bottom lip with a breathless laugh, "well, with a welcome like that, I can't _wait_ to taste December second."


	4. Stockings Aren't Meant For Presents Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Stockings

"Phil, check it out!" 

Phil glances up at the sound of Clint's laugh, followed by the jingling of bells that he could only assume was a vaguely ominous sign. 

And, sure enough, a moment later, Clint rounded the corner into Phil's home office, naked as the day he was born, save for one thing.

The Christmas Stocking hanging off his hard cock. 

"Got you an early Christmas present, _sir_ ," Clint bestowed Phil with a wink and swung his hips in what Phil was sure was meant to be a tantalizing way (it was, Phil couldn't ever deny that. Clint was damn gorgeous). Phil was momentarily torn between banging his head on his desk and actually "opening" his present. 

Naturally, he chose to open the present so _generously_ given to him. Because he would have to be damn stupid to turn down a chance to get naked with Clint Barton, his partner of several years. 

Besides, when a drunk Tony got rather rowdy and started stealing stockings at the Christmas party a week later, only to end up with Clint's (unwashed) stocking on his head, well, Phil was sure it was some kind of karmic justice for past misdeeds and could only drunkenly laugh until Clint tugged him away for a repeat performance on their private floor. 

(But, primarily, it would forever be one of the best presents Phil had ever received - or given - in the name of Christmas.)


	5. Misappropriation of Ammunition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Wreaths
> 
> (Disclaimer: Don't do this at home)

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

The steady beat of something hitting the wall had been going on for near ten minutes and was, honestly, driving Phil up a metaphorical wall. His eye twitched as another _thunk_ sounded, and his knuckles went white around his pen. 

_Thunk._

"Barton," he barked, still not getting up, hoping he could deal with his clearly bored-while-on-bedrest boyfriend without having to leave the comfort of his office, " _what_ are you doing?" 

"Nothin'," the archer called back after a long moment of silence, "just killin' time. Might watch some TV. You?" 

His eyes narrowed down at his half-finished report. Clint's voice was just a touch too...calm and overly innocent, if he knew his boyfriend - and he liked to think he did, "writing up the report about the last mission, like I said I was going to do an hour ago." 

Clint didn't answer and Phil allowed himself to relax back into his desk chair, putting pen to paper to continue writing about how Samson was basically a useless lump of uselessness in Uganda last week and how he highly recommended the Agent be demoted back out of the field, perman- _thunk_ ently. He grit his teeth, but resolutely tried to ignore the thunk once again. He could do this - he had worked through Clint's other, more annoying fits before, he could do it again.

_Thunk._

Okay, that was it, he thought, tossing the pen onto the desk and storming out of his home office into the adjacent living room, "what the _hell_ is going on out here?" 

Clint fixed him with an innocent grin he knew all too well, and his eye twitched again before he realized Clint wasn't even looking at him anymore. Hesitantly, he followed Clint's gaze to its new target. 

The circle of arrows firmly embedded in their living room wall where he was fairly certain a bland painting Stark had hung up before they moved in used to be. They were going to get around to changing that painting sometime, he knew, but he hadn't planned on...wait, were those red Christmas bows on the end of the arrows? What in the name of S.H.I.E.L.D. was Clint doing? 

"I wanted to go wreath shopping, remember?" Clint finally spoke and Phil's gaze swiveled back to his boyfriend, who was currently having the decency to look sheepish as he scratched at the cast on his broken foot, "but then that mission with Samson went FUBAR and you won't let me out of the house...just thought I'd make my own." Clint fixed Phil with a shy little smile, and Phil found himself melting at the sight. He couldn't stay mad, not over this. 

Gently dropping down onto the couch next to Clint, Phil picked up the last red bow on Clint's lap, and the other arrow, tying it in place and handing it to Clint with a grin of his own, before stealing a soft kiss, "your wreath is better than any we could have bought anyway." 

Clint just laughed and fired the last arrow into place without a word.


	6. An Itch That Can't Be Scratched (Until You're Untied)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Green Garland

Clint tested the ties around Phil's wrists, glancing up at Phil with a raised eyebrow to make sure Phil was okay. Only once he got a nod of confirmation did he continue winding the green faux-leafy garland around Phil's forearms. Of all the things he had imagined, he hadn't really ever pictured using garland for, well, for kinky sex times. But when they had gotten the garland out to wrap it around the railing that separated the kitchen and living room in their open concept apartment within Stark Tower, and Phil had accidentally gotten tangled around his wrist, things had just kind of accidentally escalated from there. 

He had to admit, though, Phil _did_ look good in green. He bent to nip along Phil's jaw, "gonna tie you up so I can fuck your mouth all night long." 

Phil grinned, tilting his head back to give Clint more room to work. He was steadfastly ignoring the growing itch creeping along his arms because he did always love the thrill and promise that came with Clint's cock in his mouth. But at the rate the itching was growing, Clint should probably get the show on the road sooner rather than later. "Well, hell, you know I'm down for that." 

Biting Phil's lower lip to quiet his lover down, Clint continued to wrap the garland up Phil's arms until it came up to his shoulders, until he could barely see the pale skin beneath them. "I gotta say, I'm kinda surprised how good you look like this. I mean, if decorating for the holidays was always this much fun, I mighta made more of an effort to do it over the years, if ya know what I mean," Clint shot Phil a wink. 

His hands were twitching, resisting the urge to break free of the garland, even though the itch was now literally all over his arms, and crawling along his chest and up his neck. He wasn't even sure how much of it was just a phantom need to scratch and how much of it was a legitimate itch-need. Phil shook his head, flexing his hands and trying to ignore the feeling. He could do this. He _would_ do this. 

"Phil?" Clint's voice was laced with concern and it took Phil a second to realize his partner had already repeated his name several times, "Phil, you okay?" 

"I'm itchy," he cringed when it blurted out of his mouth without his permission. He hadn't meant to actually admit it to Clint, wanting to give the younger man what he had asked for since, even now, after two years of dating, Clint so rarely asked for things, fearing rejection. 

The last thing he had expected was for Clint to start laughing, though, and he just stared at the archer in vague bewilderment - the itching was really distracting now - until Clint finally calmed down enough to start tugging the garland off Phil. As soon as he was free, Phil began scratching, barely realizing Clint was helping him out on that front, still laughing. 

Apparently, they would have to find another way to have fun with Christmas decorations. 

Neither one of them was complaining too much about _that_.


	7. Hats Aren't Just For One Head Anymore (And no, that's not what he means, you pervert)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Technically, it's part of a "costume," but I've declared a Santa Hat a decoration for the purposes of this chapter. Any and all complaints may be filed - using the appropriate paperwork - with Coulson at the door.

He had been away from home for less than a week but, still, the last thing he expected to see when he walked through the front door into his and Clint's apartment was the archer sitting, or rather, sprawling in their large-enough-for-two armchair, legs spread _obscenely_ , wearing only a tiny red thong he wasn't aware Clint even owned, and, of course, a Santa hat. 

Phil wouldn't deny that a tiny shiver of arousal danced down his spine, but that didn't mean he had to give into Clint right away. Far from it. 

That, of course, wouldn't stop _Clint_ from trying to get the show started. At least he let Phil get his tie mostly undone before practically purring, "c'mon, baby, come sit on Santa's lap. Santa knows you've been a very naughty boy this year, and he has something much better than a lump of coal for you." 

"Santa might need a spanking if that's the best line he can come up with," Phil shot back with a wry grin, sauntering across the room towards Clint. 

"Santa's been sitting here for two hours waiting for you to get home, so you can stuff it and deal." Clint reached out and yanked Phil down onto his lap, "or you could let Santa stuff it somewhere fun instead." 

"I'll let Santa 'stuff it somewhere fun' if it'll get him to stop calling himself Santa." 

Clint barked a laugh, muttering out, "deal," as he tugged Phil down into a soft, welcome home kiss. 

(By the end of the night, Phil would end up wearing the Santa hat, the thong would end up strung atop the Christmas tree in the living room like some sort of obscure angel topping, Clint would end up with bruises down his back and ass that made him unable to sit properly for a week which would, inevitably, prompt Stark to make obscene comments, and they would both end up having to apologize profusely to JARVIS after accidentally activating the recording protocol and forcing him to witness just what they meant by "stuffing." But, all it all, it would be one of the most successful nights of their holidays.)


	8. Balls Will Hang Where Balls Will Hang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday decoration: Christmas Balls, Christmas songs, elf-esque boxers, Santa knock-off "sexy" robe, Santa hat. 
> 
> And yes, those all count as holiday decorations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of Santa Baby playing is [this one sung by Kylie Minogue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWYgII7U8_U)

_Jingle Bell Rock_ was blaring through their apartment when Phil came home from a meeting at HQ, and given that it was December 16th, Phil was honestly more surprised he hadn't come home to hear it earlier than this anyway. 

"Clint," he yelled over the noise, not bothering to ask JARVIS to turn it off as he toed off his shoes and went searching for Clint. The living room was empty, but strewn with boxes and tissue paper, clearly Clint had been either decorating, wrapping, or, well, just playing. It could go any which way with the archer. "Clint!" 

There was a break in the music as the song ended, and in that momentary silence, he heard Clint's answer of "in the bedroom," and followed the path of destruction and holiday debris down the hallway to their bedroom, half dreading what he would find there. 

Scratch that, fully dreading what he would find there. He had to bite on his bottom lip - hard - to keep from bursting out into laughter at the sight of Clint clad in a red satin robe with white fur trim that only came down about mid-thigh and a pair of red high heels. Oh, and did he mention the crumpled Santa hat precariously perched on his head? 

_Santa Baby_ \- as sung by Kylie Minogue if Phil recognized Clint's playlist - began to play and Phil didn't bother to hide his groan at the cheesiness of it as Clint pointed at him, singing along with the lyrics. 

" _Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me_ ," he sashayed towards Phil, fisting a hand in Phil's tie to tug him deeper into the room, " _been an awful good boy, Santa baby, so **hurry** down the chimney tonight_ ," spinning them around, Clint pushed Phil down onto the foot of the bed, dancing backwards in the heels as he shot Phil a cheeky look, sucking on the tip of his own index finger in the process. 

Phil was fast going from laughing over this whole thing to feeling a tad uncomfortable in his suit pants. 

" _Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, cherry red,_ " Clint winked as he changed the lyrics yet again - this time referencing Phil's precious Lola, even if he did get the year of her wrong, " _I'll wait up for you, Agent baby, so **hurry** down the chimney tonight_." Clint's gaze dropped into something more sultry, burning a fire into Phil's body that started at the base of his spine and seemed to be moving, well, everywhere. 

Swallowing, Phil leaned back on his elbows, his entire world narrowed down to the sight of Clint's hips swaying in time with the music as Kylie continued to purr through the speakers. 

" _Think of all the fun I've missed, think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed._ " 

He raised an eyebrow at Clint, who had the decency to look sheepish before continuing, " _Santa baby, I want a new quiver, and really, that's not a lot. Been a Hawk all year, Agent baby, so **hurry** down the chimney tonight_." A quiet laugh rumbled through Phil's chest only to die in his throat as Clint untied the robe, letting it slide off his smooth skin down to the floor. But Phil couldn't look away from Clint, who was officially in nothing but a pair of green briefs and that gaudy Santa hat. 

The archer dipped low, shaking his chest and bringing Phil into laser focus on the nipple piercings that were freshly adorned with tiny red...Christmas balls? Really, Clint? He went to say something but Clint was sauntering towards him again, this time straddling his lap, hand once again in Phil's tie, and, not even singing along so much as just breathing along with the song, " _I really do believe in you, let's see if you **believe** in me, Agent baby._ " 

Every time he spoke or sung, whatever it was he was doing, it was somewhat lost on Phil, whose hands had come up to grip Clint's hips as they ground down against Phil's, no longer giving the pretense of a strip tease so much as actually grinding on Phil's now rock hard cock. Phil was lost in his boyfriend's eyes, which never left his as they pressed against each other, striving for completion to horrible Christmas songs. 

" _So hurry down the chimney tonight,_ " Clint's voice was the only one he heard now, hands squeezing Clint's hips hard enough he was sure there would be bruises, " _hurry, **tonight**_." 

That was it for Phil, who arched up against Clint, gasping out his name with eyes clenched shut and his cock still in his pants as he came. 

When he came back to himself though, several minutes later, _All I Want For Christmas_ was crooning through the speakers, and Clint was laying on top of him with that same cheeky grin from before, chin resting on Phil's chest and clearly content to ignore the cooling messes in both of their underwear.

"So, have I been a good enough boy for you now, Santa," Clint snarked, and Phil groaned, wrapping his arms around the archer's waist to roll them over on the bed, pinning Clint beneath him. 

"I don't know yet," he spoke into the stubble on Clint's cheek as he peppered his face with kisses, "I may have to hurry down the chimney every night for the rest of the years to find out whether you've been naughty or nice." 

Clint's hand was warm on Phil's chin as he tilted him up to kiss him properly, whispering, "every night for the rest of our lives sounds even better." 

Phil lazily rubbed one of the Christmas baubles hanging off Clint's nipples, just to see Clint inhale sharply and fight back what he knew would be a squeak, and grinned, "every night for the rest of our lives it is."


	9. The Tale of Why Clint Barton Was Forever Banned From Wrapping Presents (and Phil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday decorations: wrapping paper (you're better off just assuming anything remotely "holiday" counts as a decoration at this point).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Clint/Phil/Steve, you've been warned.

Phil was getting really tired of waking up just to find out that his lover of the past several years, the man he shared his life, work, and home with, had somehow managed to _tie him up while he slept_. It may have spoken volumes about Clint's abilities as a stealth operative, but it also spoke volumes about Phil's abilities as an "on point spy." (Although, one could argue that being comfortable and able to sleep deeply while in the presence of your lover was actually a good thing because it meant he trusted Clint to have his back and to not harm him and all that.) 

But his point still stands. 

Particularly since, this time, instead of _lights_ everywhere, Phil woke up _covered in Christmas ribbon_ and _in the wrong apartment_. 

At least he could move, though, he mused to himself as he staggered to his feet, idly picking at the red, white, and blue - Clint, it's Christmas, not the Fourth of July - ribbons that were tied or stuck to a majority of his body. He was hardly paying attention to where he was, attempting to figure out what Clint was trying to accomplish or tell him with this ridiculous stunt, and so he might - _might_ , no one could prove anything - have let out a tiny squeak when he ran into a solid wall of...muscle, apparently. 

Following said wall of muscle upwards, Phil felt his ears begin to burn bright red when his eyes finally connected with none other than Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself. Swallowing, he fell back half a step and gawked his mouth open and closed - he was certain he looked like a fish - as he struggled for words to explain just what was going on here. 

What came out was another unmanly - and completely imagined and totally not real - squeak. Which was, apparently, the right response because it set Steve...laughing? Phi stared at the Captain in complete oblivious confusion, unaware that another person had entered the room until there were arms - familiar, well-toned and _fantastic_ \- arms wrapping around his waist, making Phil jump before instinctively relaxing against Clint.

"Let's just say I got Steve in the Secret Santa exchange and happened to discover that what he wanted was remarkably similar to what you and I want," Clint explained in Phil's ear without Phil even asking. 

Phil's eyes grew wide as Steve advanced the two or three steps between them so he was pressed in close to Phil's front, and picked up where Clint left off, "what I wanted for Christmas was something I never imagined I could have, Agent Coul- _Phil_ " he amended, after a huff from Clint, "because what I wanted, what I _want_ is you. And Clint. Together, in my bed. If," Steve's face went bright red and Phil was positive it matched the color of his own cheeks and ears at this point, "if that's something you want." 

"I know it's something I want," Clint murmured, one hand sliding down to cup Phil's half-hard cock through his sleep pants, the other reaching out to blatantly grope Steve's rather impressive chest. Phil just gaped at Steve, mind going a million miles a minute as he struggled to process what was going on. 

Suddenly, Clint was spinning Phil around, tugging him in for a deep, sweet kiss, pouring all the love he had for the Agent into the kiss, and giving an internal victory dance as he felt Phil answer in kind. Clint ignored the quiet whimper he heard Steve make, too focused on sucking on Phil's lower lip to pay much attention.

Yet, anyway. 

Pushing Phil down onto Steve's couch, Clint gave his debauched-looking lover a grin and a wink as he danced back over to Steve, wrapping an arm around the Captain's waist and pressing in close to him, "if you don't want this, Phil," he kept his voice soft, but firm, "all you have to do is say no and we'll leave, go back home, no questions or fuss from any of us. But," he leaned up to press soft kisses along Steve's jaw, watching Phil out of the corner of his eye before he finished, "if you _want_ this, you should know that we want it too. Just say the word and we'll make all your wildest dreams come true." 

Phil swallowed again, cock twitching in his pants, and hands clenching with the _wantneedwant_ to touch both of the frankly gorgeous men in front of him. He stared up at them, burning the image into his mind to remember forever, before he finally caught up with the program and spoke three simple words: "I want it." 

Clint whooped, tugging a grinning Steve over to push him down onto the couch next to Phil, giving another whoop when Phil automatically plastered himself to Steve, groaning out, "oh, _fuck_ , do I want this," before Steve caught Phil's mouth in a kiss that left _Clint's_ knees weak. 

There was no way this was only happening once, Clint thought to himself as he hopped into the game, straddling Phil's waist and sinking his teeth into that sensitive spot on Phil's neck just to hear him whine into Steve's mouth. Not when it got _those_ kind of noises from Phil, and not when there were so many delightful noises Clint was determined to pull from Steve Rogers. No, the archer had an entire game plan that would ensure Steve spent many, many more nights in his and Phil's bed. 

Many, many more nights.


	10. When the Tinsel Fairy Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday decoration: Tinsel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains breathplay.

The shining gold and red strands looked _delicious_ against Phil's skin, Clint mused, looping the tinsel around Phil's neck. It was, at the moment, the only thing Phil was wearing and, so far, there was no problem. They had learned from their attempts with the garland - keep it simple and minimal and maybe avoid any potential itching bouts. Plus, he really had to admit that he liked the gold and red on Phil much more than he liked the green anyway. 

Cupping Phil's cheek, he tilted the older man's face up to meet Phil's hooded gaze, "you still with me, Phil?" 

He watched Phil's body shudder, feeling a similar thrill slide down his spine at the sight, and he tugged on the tinsel just enough to let Phil really feel its presence. Phil swayed with the tug, falling into the motion just as quick as he was falling into his want and pleasure. "Mm, but you are _so_ good like this, aren't you, Phil," Clint purred, stroking his thumb along Phil's cheek, "so compliant and _beautiful_." 

Phil's eyes fluttered, a quiet groan sounding in the space between them and Clint couldn't help himself, he leaned down to seal his mouth to Phil's in a kiss that was equal parts reassuring and commanding. His tongue curled around Phil's, claiming Phil, who gave into him wholly and freely. Sparks of want danced along his skin as he sunk into the wet heat of Phil's mouth, fingers exploring Phil's soft skin where it met tinsel even as his other hand held the tinsel tight around Phil's throat. 

"Please," Phil whispered as Clint slowly pulled away, " _please_ , Clint." 

"Tell me what you want, baby," Clint's voice was just as soft, lips grazing over Phil's stubbled cheek, "and if you're good, maybe I'll give it to you." 

"Want you," is all Phil managed, eyes fluttering shut, eyelashes brushing against Clint's cheek, "want to suck you, please, Clint." 

Clint let a low chuckle rumble through his chest, straightening to undo his pants, "how could I refuse a request like that?" 

He watched as Phil's mouth fell open in quick anticipation, tongue darting out to wet his lips before Clint was sliding his half-hard cock into that glorious mouth, pressing forward as far as he could, purposely yanking the tinsel a fraction tighter as his cock hit the back of Phil's throat. Clint let out another groan as Phil's eyes fluttered again, hands flexing at his sides as he fought to breathe past the tinsel around his throat and the cock in his mouth. He loved seeing Phil like this - loved knowing just how much Phil loved to strive to bring Clint off while simultaneously riding that brilliant edge that came with the erotic asphyxiation Phil loved. 

Mostly, Clint loved being the one to do this to Phil; loved being the one to reduce him to a quivering ball of nerves and need on his knees at Clint's feet; loved making Phil beg for completion; loved seeing the whites of Phil's eyes as they rolled into the back of his head as he gave into Clint completely, as he let Clint decide when he could breath, when he could talk, when he could think. 

Unbidden, one of Phil's hands came up to shakily grip at Clint's thigh, his throat spasming around Clint's cock as Clint's hips jerked forward, fucking Phil's mouth rough and hard. He was already so close, knuckles white under the tinsel he was holding, and heart pounding in his chest. It wouldn't take long, not with Phil so deliciously obedient at his feet. Fingers dug into Clint's thighs, but their grip was weaker than it would usually be if Phil had full air. 

Clint sucked on his lower lip, biting back another groan, eyes flickering to Phil's just in time to catch Phil's gaze, his desperate, needy, _happy_ gaze, and that was it for Clint. The tinsel was pulled as taunt as possible as he fucked into Phil's mouth once, twice, three times more, free hand tangling in Phil's hair and tugging hard as he came in spurts down Phil's throat, relishing the way Phil choked and gagged around him. 

Minutes later, he was coming back to himself, hand still in Phil's hair, his softening cock in Phil's mouth, but the tinsel-holding hand slack, giving Phil more room to breathe around Clint. His chest was heaving with exertion but he paid it no mind, slipping free of Phil's lips and sliding to his knees to kiss Phil's swollen mouth once again. 

Phil made a quiet whimper into his mouth, tugging a grin from Clint as he leaned away, "you need to come, babe?" Clint's grin grew as Phil nodded with a desperate little whine. He trailed a hand down to cup Phil through his pants, massaging gently for just a moment before he wiggled his hand under the fabric to grip Phil properly, stroking him hard and fast the way he knew Phil liked. "You were such a good boy," Clint praised, leaving wet kisses along Phil's jaw and neck - above the tinsel line, "so proud of you. Want you to come for me, c'mon, Phil, come for me." 

Clint's heart beat double time as if in triumph as Phil's back curved, Phil's hips pumping up to seek more friction from Clint's hand, another desperate whine falling from his throat as wet heat spilled over Clint's hand. His hands, stronger than before, grasped and clung to Clint, keeping the archer close as Phil rode out his orgasm in Clint's hands. 

"That's it," Clint purred, nipping a mark into Phil's skin, "fuck, that's it." 

Phil collapsed against Clint, gasping and panting even as Clint unwound the tinsel from his neck, the archer pausing only to kiss the red line left by the Christmas decoration. 

"So," Phil managed to whisper into Clint's shoulder, voice raspy from the abuse his throat had taken moments ago, "when are we doing that again?" 

Clint barked out a laugh before tugging Phil into a soft kiss, "whenever you want, Phil, whenever you want." 

"Well, in that case, merry Christmas to me." 

They shared another laugh, and another kiss, the tinsel falling forgotten between them.


	11. Clint Barton, the Naughty Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday Decoration: Light up Reindeer - Tony Stark Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Clint/Tony/Phil. You've been warned.
> 
> I may come back and expand this one if there's enough interest in it. ;)

When Tony Stark revealed his latest "invention," Phil was positive something must have taken over the engineer's mind and made him go crazy. Or, well, crazier than Tony Stark already was, anyway. 

Because only a crazy man would invent a damn larger-than-life size light up reindeer decoration just for the excuse to have it be seen from the top of Stark Tower in New York. 

Then again, Phil knew he had a few crazy genes himself. 

After all, only a crazy man would get involved with the archer that decided it would be a good idea to _try and ride the damn thing._

Still, Phil mused, arms crossed as he glared at Clint, who was now safely on firm ground, sitting in one of their living room chairs like a teenager about to get scolded by a parent. He looked to his left, biting back a grin at the sight of Tony Stark trying to give Clint a stern look. Tony may be trying to act stern just because he had told Clint not to ride the decoration, but he had a theory Tony was more upset that Clint had gotten to it first. 

But what Tony said next had Phil's entire world reeling and struggling to right itself. Because what Tony said, what he suggested, and, moreover, what Clint agreed to...it was all more than Phil had ever imagined possible in this reality or others. 

Which was how he found himself, two days later, sequestered away in Tony's lab, watching Tony secure Clint into place with thick leather cuffs that, frankly, looked amazing on Clint, before he and Tony helped Clint up onto another reindeer, this one smaller, made for far different purposes than simple decoration. 

Clint's hole was shiny and slick with lube and he let out a desperate, needy whimper as Tony arranged him atop the reindeer, his hole easily accepting the dildo that was attached to the reindeer. Tony shot Phil an absolutely filthy leer over Clint's shoulder and Phil couldn't stop himself from leaning forward to steal the engineer's mouth in a biting kiss, ignoring Clint's groan beside him. 

The archer had been a naughty boy, Phil knew that. And the fact that he and Tony were going to have the joint _delight_ of punishing him with a fucking machine of Tony's own design, while Phil and Tony got their hands all over each other next to Clint? 

Well, it was the kind of dream Phil hoped he never woke up from.


	12. Peppermint Kisses on Candy Cane Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday decoration: Candy Canes (it totally counts).

Phil had been watching Clint suck on that damn candy cane for damn near an hour now and he wasn't sure his jeans could take much more of it. He was already rock hard and shifting like a fidgeting kid in school, the zipper borderline painful against his hard cock. But did Clint fucking Barton care? 

Clearly not, since Phil had to bite back a groan of want as he watched Clint drag the tip of the candy over his bottom lip, his gaze focused on the sight of Thor and Steve attempting to arm wrestle each other at the other end of the table. 

It was Christmas day, the gang was all together, laughter was filling the air, along with the scent of holiday dinner cooking in the kitchen. For once, the world wasn't about to end. Yet all Phil could think about was licking the taste of peppermint out of Clint's mouth before fucking his archer blind in their bed three floors down. 

The noise of a throat clearing next to him jerked Phil out of his reverie and he glanced over at Tony, who was giving him a knowing look. Phil rolled his eyes, shifting to slouch down in his chair, determined to ignore his desire until later, not willing to risk ruining Clint's holiday just to get his rocks off. It was so rare he got to see Clint light up the way the archer was at the moment; so rare he got to see Clint so completely happy and at ease, Phil would rather relish that carefree grin than ruin it. 

Which was, of course, when Clint had to go and ruin it by looking over to Phil just as his tongue flicked out to curve around the pointed tip of the candy cane. Clint's eyes were slightly hazy from the rum-filled eggnog Bruce had handed out earlier, but Phil could see the wicked curl of knowing lust hidden in those dark depths. Clint knew what he was doing to Phil, and, more than that, he was doing it on purpose to tease Phil. 

Pursing his lips, Phil fought back a grin and tried to give Clint a stern look, attempting to tell him without words to behave. But Clint just laughed, giving Phil a flash of teeth before he was biting down on the candy cane and hollowing out his cheeks around the chunk of candy. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and his cock jumped in his pants. 

"Oh, will you two quit with the eye fucking and just go actually fuck already? I'm sure you can rub one or two out before dinner is done," Tony burst out, lacking any of his usual tact - if you could call it that - his eyes glittering with a knowing mirth that had Phil forcing himself not to think about his and Clint's time with Tony in Tony's lab the other day. 

"I have no idea," Phil started, but Natasha cut him off with a snort, raising her mug of mulled wine in his direction and just shaking her head instead of saying anything at all. 

"Well, with that ringing endorsement," Clint jumped to his feet, the tip of the candy cane held between his teeth as he danced his way around the table to tug Phil up by the sleeve, "we'll be back for dinner." 

Normally, Phil would protest, primarily out of politeness and proper etiquette. But, well, it was the holidays. Who needed etiquette when one could have Clint Barton naked under you? 

And apparently, Phil needed to lay off the spiked eggnog because he hadn't even realized he had said that last bit out loud until Tony, Thor, and Natasha all started laughing at him. He caught Steve smothering a smile behind his hand, and he was absently glad Doctor Banner had stepped out of the room earlier to do, something, he couldn't remember what. 

"Say Merry Christmas, Phil," Clint instructed, pulling Phil into the elevator.

"Merry Christmas, Phil," Phil absently parroted, doing his utmost best to completely forget that this moment ever happened, before the elevator doors slid closed and Clint was on him, peppermint heavy on his tongue, body a warm, comforting weight against Phil's. 

A Merry Christmas indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


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